


Kinda I Want To

by alinalotus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Beth Boland - Freeform, Beth/Rio - Freeform, F/M, For real these two though, Rio, god they burning us UP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14137233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinalotus/pseuds/alinalotus
Summary: It's ironic that the only man she can actually trust is one wanted by the FBI. Set after episode 5.





	Kinda I Want To

**So there's basically no fic and definitely not enough in this tag and I'll fill it myself if I have to, I stg XD**

**Enjoy.**

_I know it's not the right thing_  
And I know it's not the good thing  
But kinda I want to  
But kinda I want to 

She was happy at one time, she supposes. Maybe it was the euphoria of finally achieving what every woman (or so she was raised to believe) wanted- a husband, a house in suburbia, kids to raise. She couldn't think of anything she wanted for back then- semi-steady sex, even if was of the safe, only vaguely satisfying variety, PTA meetings and baby showers...and then the dealership opened, and there was Amber, and it was like watching her life from the backseat of her very sensible minivan.

Everything was passing her by, and while her marriage started to crumble, while Dean became somebody she couldn't even recognize, while they were swimming deeper in poverty, she started looking for something. It couldn't be found in any of her husband's lies or in any of Annie's shenanigans and appalling life choices. Beth didn't know herself what it was until she was in a grungy warehouse on the outskirts of town, and Rio was there, sleeves rolled up, his back to her. She'd had to talk herself out of staying, force herself through those doors behind Ruby and Annie, especially after Rio had looked at her like she was, finally, something.   

That's where it had all come from. Her confidence, her capability. In the midst of smuggling dirty money and committing God only knew how many felonies, she had started to put her life back together. She had stopped being afraid, and she'd stopped trying to be the old Beth who let life walk all over her for the sake of appearances. In short, she'd stopped living a lie. 

It was no surprise that she went back to that warehouse, looking for him. It wasn't just the money, though the appeal of being financially independent was enough of a draw. Providing for her kids and herself without her soon-to-be ex didn't have to just be a pipe dream. It was, mostly, that she couldn't stand the thought of him, of Rio, never looking at her like that again. The elation of pulling off a job was intense, but she knew, while she and Ruby and Annie drank away the afternoon in that bar, that the rush had come mostly from Rio himself. 

It's the way he looks at her; it's not just eye-fucking, it's fire. He sees _through_ her, inside her. Nobody has ever looked at her like that in her entire life.

She walks into one of the several diners in the industrial district, a far cry from her comfortable upper middle-class neighborhood, and her breath catches as she sees him. He texted her, she answered, and here they were, meeting like they were bffs. He would want to know what she said to the FBI, of course. She was relieved to see he was alone, without his gun toting cronies (although she still wanted to thank the guy who had bled all over her house for helping out her niece). 

"What'd you say to the suits?" He doesn't mince words, but she likes that about him. He's casually leaning against the wall, tilted in his chair, a tall cup of soda in front of him. His hood is up and the muscles in his neck flex with each word. She drops her eyes to the table, trying not to think about how his throat would taste as she traced his eagle tattoo with her tongue. She probably shouldn't be here, and she definitely shouldn't be so attracted to him, but goddamn if she isn't.

"Just uh, told him that we...that _I_ , had an affair." 

"With me." He's amused and she meets his dark eyes, that flame in them again. 

Beth nods. The waitress appears and sets down a mug of steaming coffee in front of her. 

"Sugar and milk. No cream." He says, and she raises an eyebrow in question. 

Rio shrugs. "Some things...like coffee...are easy." 

“You mean _I'm_ easy to read because what, I'm some boring, useless housewife?” 

Rio considers this for a moment. “Is that what he told you?” 

Beth doesn't reply. It's obvious who he means. Rio's seen his fair share of damaged women; on the street women were hardly anything but. He knows where it can start. Beth isn't exactly damaged, or at least she sure as hell ain't giving in without a fight. Her husband was a piece of shit though. Imagine not being able to get it up for somebody like her. He'd pegged _that_ white fuckboy a mile a way.

“Yeah, figured. And lemme guess, once you kicked his punk ass out he came at you with some sob story, right? What is it? His momma got Alzheimer's? A double stroke? Cancer?” 

Beth looks hurriedly up at that, and Rio grins in triumph. “Not his momma, huh. Told you he wasn't trustworthy.” 

She has to literally bite her tongue from retorting. It doesn't matter, anyway. There was always a part of her that didn't believe Dean was really dying. That he was grasping at any and every straw not to lose the life he had so willingly fucked away. He had asked her, if he hadn't cheated, if he hadn't squandered every cent they had, if she would still be with him. She couldn't answer that because it didn't need an answer. She was no longer the girl he married and he definitely wasn't the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. 

"You hungry?" He taps the plastic menu as the waitress stops again at their table. Beth hesitates; she should go. She should leave and go home and start baking whatever cookies the current bake sale required of her. But here, with him...she'd be a damn liar if she said it isn't where she'd rather be. She nods. 

"Two short stacks." He tells the waitress, who jots it down on her pad. “Blueberry.” He adds, not returning Beth's surprised (and slightly embarrassed) look.

Beth swallows thickly as Rio lifts his mouth in a half-smirk. She should've guessed he would know; he seemed to know everything. It made sense that he had somebody on the inside of the FBI. No wonder he hadn't been worried about it. 

“I was hoping for a little more detail. I did say to make me sound good, sweetheart.” 

She knows 'sweetheart' is supposed to be condescending. A gang banger doesn't use poetry or flowery nicknames. And yet, she thinks, he's serious when he says it. 

“It wasn't like I left a lot to the imagination”

“Not yours, yeah.” He stares at her in contemplation, and she's wondering if he's thinking how believable it all sounded, and not because she's some great liar, though she had recently acquired that skill. “You'll think of something” he had said, so cocky and sure, like he knew everything she'd ever thought about him. Rio's done a couple of up and downs before, and she pretended not to notice, though a thrill always went though her as his dark eyes roved over her breasts, down her hips, and back up again. He's not doing that now, while they're seated at a rickety formica table, but that same thrill is running through her blood, and she can't pull her gaze from his. 

“No.” She says, giving a small shake of her head. Definitely not hers. It was easier than she thought it would be, once she'd finally injected some truth in it, to tell that agent what she and Rio had done, because they'd fucked on that kitchen table, on the counters, in the shower, against the glass french doors and really most available surfaces in her house several times in her fantasies. Beth wonders if Rio has ever thought about it. He must have, to even suggest it that day, right? Or maybe she just wants that to be the case. She didn't want to admit it then, but she was equally shocked and flattered that he'd even brought it up. 

He doesn't say anything else, watching her in silence. It isn't uncomfortable, though. Rio doesn't do that anymore- make her uncomfortable. She's obviously lost her mind because this is the same man who sat there, mindlessly texting on his phone, while one of his bangers held a gun to her head. Rio was dangerous. He was violent and he didn't care what he had to do to get his. That was his life. But he was also the guy who hadn't spewed their brains all over her marble counter tops, who had offered her and Annie and Ruby a way out of owing him, who had trusted them to complete an important job, and who had actually struck more deals with them along the way. In all of their dealings, none of them had actually been hurt. Their kids were fine, their reputations were in tact. Beth could pay her mortgage and go grocery shopping and get the car detailed, Annie could afford her rent and her attorney fees, Ruby was saving her daughter's life. No matter the things that Rio did in his every day business, he would always be the man who helped her when the rest of them screwed her over. It was simple- she trusted him. It's ironic that the only man she can actually trust is wanted by the FBI. 

Beth wonders if Rio finds her as fascinating as she finds him. 

The waitress returns with their pancakes and syrup, and they start to eat in continued silence until Rio slides a cell phone across the table. 

“It's a burner.” 

“For work?” She picks up the phone, trying not to hold it as though it were a ticking bomb. 

He shrugs, doesn't reply, and goes back to his plate. Beth slips the phone into her pocket and glances over, noticing that Rio has only had a couple bites. She herself has only just cut into her pancakes, not bothering to eat them yet. She knows that once one of them finished, Rio will be gone, and who knew when she would see him again? They'd had a hand off only two days ago. Weeks could go by before he'd be in contact again. 

“You hesitated.” Rio finally mutters, and Beth looks up, confused. 

“I- what?” 

“When I asked you what you were doing with someone like me.” 

Ah. Yeah. Well, she couldn't exactly come out and tell him that the mere thought of him, of his deep voice and the way he licked his bottom lip sometimes before he talked was enough to make her wet. She couldn't say to him that breaking the goddamn law and not just being the one-sided Stepford wife had pulled her from the edge of depression and misery. And anyway she didn't really have an answer that would completely satisfy either of them. 

“I think you know what I'm doing...what I want to be doing...with someone like you.” She says boldly- far bolder than she actually feels. Her marriage has been one big, constant rejection. Dean only wanted her when he realized he'd lost her. Before that he was never interested in her, in any respect. She was the perfect wife to appeal to his vanilla customers, that was all. 

She had gotten desensitized to Dean's dismissal. She doesn't know if she can stomach Rio's. 

“Right, right.” He repeats his answer from that day, eyes flicking down her face, then goes back to saying nothing while he finishes off his plate.

He stands, and Beth slides her chair back to leave as well, but he holds up a hand. “Eat up.” He tosses a few folded bills on the table and turns to leave. Before walking away, he leans down to her, his voice pressed up against her ear. 

“See you real soon, yeah?” She shivers, his breath on her earlobe. She wants to lean into him, to feel his lips on her neck, but he's gone before she can even exhale. 

_Yeah. Real soon._ A phrase that had, in the past, terrified her, now enthralled her. 

Just like Rio himself, really. 

 

**Be on the lookout for a second part that includes a follow up to the burner phone XD as ever feedback is appreciated. Lyrics used are from Kinda I Want To by Nine Inch Nails. I can't listen to Pretty Hate Machine without thinking of Rio and Beth. I have a problem.**


End file.
